Unconditional Surrender
by Lomelindi
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Movie-based, spoilers for HB2. Since the moment she was born, Princess Nuala has always walked a thin line between her duties as a daughter and her loyalties to her twin. Nuada/Nuala. Spans from the ancient war to the second movie.
1. The Calm Before The Storm

Unconditional Surrender

**Author: **Lomelindi

**Rating**: R

**Warnings**: Twincest. (Nuada/Nuala)

**Summary**: (Movie-based, spoilers for HB2. ) Since the moment she was born, Princess Nuala has always walked a thin line between her duties as a daughter and her loyalties to her twin. Nuada/Nuala. Spans from the ancient war to the second movie.

**Notes**: Purely movie-based. Any background info is speculated from my brain, so please don't remind me how much this story may not resemble comic!canon or real mythology.

My one-shot "Apologies" can be considered a prequel to this, but both stories can stand alone.

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When they fought, it was like the world trembled and the sky darkened around her. Nuala was afraid, so very afraid that the rift growing between the two people that she loved the most may one day engulf what little was left of their Royal Family. The prince and the king often shared harsh words, and while none of their verbal fights have so far lead to violence, Nuala knew it was only a matter of time before steel blades replaced their sharp tongues. The thought made her heart clench painfully within her chest.

She hung her head and hugged herself, praying that the newest verbal battle would end as quickly as it started. Her father and brother's voices were muffled by the thick door, but she could hear enough --more than enough.

"We are not _defeated_!"

"But we are _losing_, my son. What will you have me do? Sacrifice what little warriors we have left?"

"We live longer than they do, we heal faster--"

"We are fewer! Even if there is only a few of them, their numbers will rebound in a generation or two and we will suffer for it."

"Then we keep _killing_ them."

"_No_!"

Her father's tone made Nuala wince. He almost never raised his voice, but even a deaf man could hear that Nuada was testing his patience.

"No," the king repeated, quieter this time. His voice was raspy and exhausted. "There will be no more bloodshed. We have lost."

"But the goblins--"

"But _nothing_, Nuada, I will not hear it! I will send a letter to the humans tomorrow conceding our defeat. That is my final decision."

Nuala's thin fingers dug into her sleeves until her knuckles were whiter than bone. Her shoulders shook with fright until she thought she could feel ice dripping down her back. Since a princess had no say in times of war, she knew her father and her brother cared not about her opinion nor needed her presence in these affairs of state, but every biting remark from their lips ripped through her like a knife through butter.

_Stop it_, she begged in her mind, hoping that, by some miracle, her brother may hear it through his fit of rage. _Please_, _both of you_.

There was sudden silence in the throne room, then a resounding bang as the chamber doors were flung open.

Nuala visibly jumped and looked up just in time to see her brother storm out of the chamber in a blur of red robes and white hair. He paused only a few feet away from her, breathing hard and reeking rage out of every pore of his body. Nuala flinched. Now with no door to separate them, she could sense his temper simmering at his edge of their bond like a dam threatening to burst. It wasn't a terribly pleasant sensation.

"Did you hear?" Nuada demanded, one hand clenched around the long knife at his hip, the other pointed accusingly at their father, who still sat on his throne. His eyes seemed to have brightened from a dull, reddish-gold to something that resembled open flames. Nuada didn't lose his temper often, but when he did, it was an explosive and terrifying sight.

Her own eyes wide with fear, Nuala didn't dare lie. "I did."

"_And_?" He wanted her to agree with him --he _always_ wanted her to agree with him.

Nuala hesitated, but she stood her ground and kept her face as passive as she could. "I... think you should listen to Father," she answered slowly.

Nuada's nostrils flared. That was not what he wanted to hear. He glared at her for a moment longer before storming away with a growl in his throat, no doubt off to take his anger on any unfortunate servants that stood between him and his room.

Nuala watched him go, unable to fight off the feeling that she had just failed some test. She _wanted_ to agree with him, if only out of compassion, but her mind told her to agree with their father --yes, there should be no more war, no more death. Too many of their warriors had to be buried this year, and she did not want any more maidens or elfings to lose their sons, husbands or brothers.

"You speak wisely, my daughter."

Nuala turned and went to her father's throne, kneeling before it with her head bowedShe prayed that he could not see her shaking as easily as her twin could. "...Father?"

His eyes were distant, focused on a point somewhere beyond her head. "His pride has blinded him to our losses," he whispered, his voice exhausted from attempting to keep up with his much younger son. A rough, ancient hand settled on her head and stroked her hair as a master might stroke a pampered pet. "Speak to him. He will listen to you."

_No, he won't. Not about this_. But the princess only gave a sweet smile and nodded before sweeping away in a graceful blur of tan silk. She left nothing but the lingering scent of jasmine in her steps.

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She loved watching her brother practice. His movements were like liquid metal, full of deadly strength and yet so fast that not even an elven eye could follow him. The spear became an extension of his body, a limb with no muscle that could kill an enemy in one slice and be gone a split second later, as if it was never there to begin with. Nuada of the Silver Lance --that's what he was called. He may excel in every type of weapon, but everyone knew that the lance would always be his favorite. Even as a child, he had been drawn to them, drawn to their flexibility and their strength and the sheer range of their attack.

A particularly large swing of his spear swept a brush of wind through her hair, making her blink as the blade came dangerously close to her face. Her rosy lips curled upward in a slight smile, one only visible to those that knew where to look. _He meant to do that_. She had learned a long time ago never to doubt her twin's absolute control over his weapons. He liked teasing his enemy as much as he liked showing off, and she knew she was in no immediate danger if he felt like flaunting how close his blade could come to her face.

Eventually, Nuada slowed and did one last swing, twirling the lance around his neck before planting it solidly on the ground with a resounding _twang_. He watched the weapon vibrate in his hand before finally fixing his bright, flashing eyes on her. It was the first time he had looked at her since she came into the room. "If you are here to lecture me, I will hear none of it."

The princess traced the hem of her dress with one dainty foot --a nervous habit. "Father only means best," she said quietly, looking away.

"Our _king_ has brought upon the doom of our people," Nuada hissed, glaring at her from under long, mussed hair.

"We are not dead yet," Nuala corrected gently.

Nuada's eyes hardened, but there was no real malice behind his gaze, only the frustration of a trapped man. "So what is it that he wants? Does he want us to fade away and leave this world to the humans? They will burn the forests, murder the animals and rip apart the trees!"

Nuala remained quiet, looking at him with eyes that were lost in his own. Sliding one pale hand down to the black sheets she sat on, she patted the space beside her on the bed. "Come," she whispered.

He complied, sliding his body up against hers like it was second nature. For them, it was.

Nuala's hands slid out to greet him, tracing up the beautiful gold embroidery of his collar before snaking her fingers into his hair. She loved the robe he was wearing. It was something their father had worn when he was a prince, and something their grandfather had worn long before that. It was an intense and vibrant red from the collar all the way down to his boots, and it gave his already beautiful eyes such a bright and lively hue. Others said it made him look like he was wearing a blanket of blood, but Nuala didn't think in such terms --to her, the robe made him look ethereal, like a defiant red beacon of light in a world that was steadily growing darker and darker around them.

"Nuala..." He made a slight face at her fussing. He didn't like this robe --it was too long for his tastes, too restraining. The prince much preferred tunics that allowed him to move freely in battle, but their father often forced him to wear such outfits when they were within the royal palace. He figured he wouldn't have to wear it for much longer, since the advancing human troops would soon overtake the castle and send them fleeing for the safety of the woods.

"You speak as if you have seen the future," the princess whispered, drawing her fingers through his hair and undoing the knots he had gained from his practicing. "You can do many things, Brother, but that is one ability I know you do not have." Having finished with his hair, she brushed one side of it behind his ear and traced her fingers over his dark lips, wishing that she could stop him from saying all the words of doom and death that frightened her so.

He kissed her fingertips with gentle reverence. "What is a prince to do then, when he is forced into defeat before he is ready to do so?"

She looked at him with serious eyes. "Father wishes to save what little we have left. He has... honorable intentions."

"And I do not?" There was sudden tension between them, and he pulled away.

She missed his warmth but didn't dare chase it. Her twin would return to her when he was ready --he always did. "You do," she sighed, curling her hands in her lap. "You are so very brave, my brother, but bravery alone will not win a war."

He ran a hand irritably through his hair, mussing it again, but she admired the way it tumbled down over one shoulder. He suddenly fell back on to the bed, curling his arms under his head and looking up at the ceiling where there was an ancient diagram of a night sky etched into every inch. "I will find a way," he murmured. "There _must_ be a way."

Nuala followed him, the smooth silk of her sleeves dancing over his chest as she hovered above him, suddenly looking very sad. "Must you _always_ rush off to battle? There are better things in life, Brother." _Like staying here. With me._

He reached up and cupped her cheek as tenderly as an artist may handle porcelain. "'Tis in the nature of a lion to hunt for meat. You cannot stop him."

_I know_. And that was what ripped her heart.

A strong arm suddenly curled around her chest, making her gasp as she suddenly found herself rolled on to the bed in a mess of tan dress and white hair. She looked up to find her brother holding himself above her with his elbows and looking extremely pleased with himself. His own hair descended upon her face like a cascade of woven silk and through the darkness that it caused, she could see him smirking. "I have but twenty four hours to find a way to change our father's mind, Sister," he whispered, "but there is more than enough time in there for you."

Perhaps it was because he was always listless when he was angry, or perhaps it was he sensed how much she wanted him _here_, at home. Either way, they both knew she would not deny him.

Nuala said nothing. She knew she didn't need to. She reached up, slid her fingers against the collar of the robe that she loved so much, and promptly parted it down the middle. He leaned down to kiss her soundly, shifting so that she could bare his shoulders and run her hands appreciatively over his powerful arms.

The elves rarely made love entirely naked, for the sensation of elven skin against elven skin was terribly, painfully sweet. Nuada did not like to bare his legs, his sister knew, but he had no qualms against baring his chest. And oh, how she _adored_ that chest. It seemed to have been sculpted out of pure marble, with planes that dipped and rose like the mountains in the hidden valley.

"_Perfection_," he agreed in a low purr as he tore another soft, keening cry from her throat. It was immediately obvious if he was referring to her or to himself. He kissed her neck with feverish need, his nails creating lines of burning fire that slid up her creamy thighs. He could feel the same feeling in his own body only a second later, as well as her own, smaller nails digging into his back. The sensations were slowly driving him mad.

It soon became hard to tell where one twin began and where the other ended, but neither of them bothered to try. His musky scent and her sweeter one would melt together into the silk sheets of his bed and they both knew it would linger for days, despite their best attempts to clean the room.

Though they never spoke of it to each other, they liked it that way. Her brother's scent in her sheets was one the few things that could quell Nuala's thoughts when he was away at war. Likewise, her scent in _his_ sheets was something that would call him home from battle to a sister and a kingdom that loved him dearly.

Their passion was rising to a feverish pitch, and Nuala was lost, burning, _aching_ for more. Nuada locked their lips in a desperate dance and she relented to his strength, offering her mouth and lips and neck --her _soul_-- up to her twin's insatiable appetite. Though her brother was usually gentle with her and treated her as if he was afraid she would shatter like glass if he held her too hard, he was much larger than she was and much heavier. His scent, his heat, and his very strength surrounded her from the inside out and she knew she couldn't get away from him even when she tried.

In her feverish and passion-clouded mind, the princess made note of something different. Nuada almost seemed... distracted. He played skillfully with her body until she mewled and wriggled for more, but his mind seemed elsewhere, as if he was focused on a subject much larger than she.

She found out what it was later, after their sweaty limbs were entangled under the sheets and she had drifted to sleep with the sound of his powerful heartbeat under her ear. He had toyed with her hair until he, too, fell asleep to the sound of a night owl hooting outside.

She awoke in the middle of the night with a cold spot beside her but a warm, familiar sensation in her mind that told her her twin was near.

Silently, the groggy princess sat up and rummaged around for something to wear. Her dress was ruined, possibly torn (her brother could be so impatient sometimes), but she found a bed tunic that she quickly slipped into and wrapped around her waist. It was much too long for her and exposed part of her right shoulder, but it was enough to shield her tender breasts from the cold night air.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of loose trousers, Nuada was sitting at his desk at the foot of the bed, long white hair tossed impatiently over one shoulder, his proud head and his powerful shoulders bent over a piece of parchment that he was writing on. He had lit a candle by his elbow and was clearly in the midst of some sort of... epiphany.

Nuala wondered if he had finally gone mad, but she could sense nothing but calmness on the other end of their bond. Well, calmness and a sense of utter defiance, stronger than what she had felt just hours ago. _He has an idea_.She knew she should be happy for him, but why did she feel such a chill up her spine? Was this not the exact opposite of what her Father wanted to happen?

Wrapping her thin arms around his neck, she sought the heat from his bare back. "Will you not come to bed?" she whispered in his ear. "Surely you can write this in the morning."

"Goblins are more active at night," he answered briskly. Then, as if to apologize for his tone, he looked up and kissed her tenderly. The kiss made her knees feel weak. When he pulled away, his eyes were glittering in the candlelight. "I know we are far from dead, Sister, and I seek to keep it that way."

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AN: Every time I write something that I think will be multi-chaptered, I get the feeling that my muses will give out on me half-way. Hopefully, this time, they won't. I will, however, probably end up writing each chapter like a one-shot, since I think things flow quicker and smoother that way if you guys don't have to surf through me endlessly babbling to fill in the gaps between important scenes.

And for anyone that was confused by the ending of this chapter, Nuada is writing for the goblin blacksmith to come and speak to his father about the forging of the Golden Army. :p


	2. I Will Come Back For You

Unconditional Surrender

**Author: **Lomelindi

**Rating**: R

**Chapter 2: **I Will Be Back For You

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In retrospect, she should've seen it coming. The goblin blacksmith came with sweet words and a mighty pledge, and she could only watch in a daze as her brother --her proud, elegant and, above all, _cunning_ brother-- kneeled by their father's side and whispered promises of power and victory in his ear.

Their father was many dozens of millennia old, but despite his ancient age, he, too, had a part of himself that wanted to go out in flame and glory. It was stirred up by his son's sly words and the distant thought that all the children of the earth could unite once more to show the humans what mother nature was capable of.

At long last, the elven king stood, his daughter by one shoulder, his son by the other. "Build me this army!" he declared, and they could feel the earth tremble with glee at the verdict.

And though she smiled, held her father's hand and bowed to his wishes, Nuala felt the ever present grip of fear tighten on her heart. _What if this didn't work_?

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She was there when the final battle --no, the _massacre_-- took place. All of Elvendom and most of the other creatures of the forest arrived at the front lines to watch the Golden Army work its magic. The king, the princess and the prince stood at the top of the tallest of the hills, looking down at the mechanical army as it wrecked havoc on the humans below.

Man had no chance.

Nuala felt sick to her stomach as the slaughter continued. The smell of rotting bodies and the sight of red blood soaked into the very mountains and the elves instinctively knew that these hills would be forever cursed with the scent of death. The princess tried to keep her chin up, to look as proud as her father and her brother did, but she could not stop shaking as she saw men, children and women fall to the merciless blades of the Golden Army. She knew that the sight would haunt her dreams for centuries to come.

Perhaps her knees grew too weak for Nuada's liking, but for whatever reason, she eventually found his arm around her waist, supporting her and _forcing_ her to watch the rest of the battle.

_Let me go, _she had begged with her eyes and her heart, _I cannot watch any more._

_This is the moment of our greatest glory, Sister_, he had replied, with a feral curl of his lips, _Do watch it, for me._ Dressed in his finest armor with the wind in his hair, he looked positively radiant at the pinnacle of their victory. His expression was a strange mixture glee and disgust, and the gleaming _hate_ in his eyes that he had for the humans was more evident than ever.

Not for the first time in her life, Nuala feared him.

When the day finally ended and the guardians of the earth were the only ones left standing, that was when the cold, terrifying _horror_ seeped into their gut. Nuala fell to the ground and wept, wept for all the children and the women and the trees here that would spend eternity drinking their blood. Nuada only wrinkled his nose, but he seemed... disappointed. He had hoped that the humans would put up more of the fight.

And their father... Their old, wrinkled father who seemed to resemble more of a tree than an elf, put his face into his one working hand and uttered the words that would rip apart their family forever. "_Never again_."

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That night was the first and last time Nuala would ever see her twin drunk. Their father had, in a heartbeat, ripped a hard-won victory from the prince's hands and had left him with nothing but shame and regret in return. Nuada had no tricks left up his sleeves, no other miracles he could call upon to save his people.

The despair was too much for him to bear.

"_Enough_," Nuala said finally, raising a hand to block his goblet from reaching his lips. The others elves were still cheering and dancing merrily over a false victory and she did not have the heart to stop them. Her brother, however, was fair game.

The prince's eyes slitted dangerously at her, but those normally brilliant irises were now glassy and unfocused. "I will do as I like," he growled. His sharp tongue was apparently undiminished by the affects of alcohol.

She kept her hand firmly on his goblet. "I can feel it as well," she reminded him. She was light-headed and more than a little off-balanced, and she did not like either feeling. "Come, Brother. I shall take you to your chambers. Then I will see what our Father is up to." _One of us needs to be sane tonight._

She wished he wasn't so drunk, though. They must've been a strange sight, the much taller and much heavier prince leaning on his smaller sister, both of them staggering through the hallways of their palace because neither of them had could keep their balance. Thankfully, the hallways were abandoned. Everyone was off celebrating the end of the war and the sound of lovely elven laughter could be heard from every corner of the castle.

The sound tore Nuala's heart. Her people were going be so disappointed in the morning when their father felt well enough to announce his decision. And Nuada... She did not _want_ to know what he was going to be like in the morning.

When she finally got him to his chambers, the princess shrugged off Nuada's weight and settled him gently on the side of his bed. She rested beside him, panting and trembling from the effort it took to drag them both here. Eventually, she stood again, swayed on her feet, and locked the door to his chambers.

"He has doomed us all," came her brother's calm voice. His words was as clear as day and it made Nuala wonder if he was really drunk at all.

She leaned her forehead against the cold wood of the door and closed her eyes. _You hurt, Brother. I can feel it._ "Is that what you believe?" she whispered, wanting the throbbing headache that plagued them both to just go away.

Nuada was staring off into space, his proud shoulders drooping, his hair falling in front of his face like a waterfall of shame. "We are to run away and hide in the caves like beasts, because our _king_ feels _guilt_." He spat the words.

Nuala flinched from his tone. It was hard to hear such disgust and loathing from her brother's normally eloquent lips. She stumbled back to his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wanting to do something --_anything_-- to stave off the sudden wave of rage and grief she could feel radiating from his body.

Utter and complete despair --that was the feeling. He was in despair over their robbed victory, over the loss of a perfectly good weapon and very possibly over the biggest blow to his pride to date. It hurt them both like a physical punch.

His hands were shaking when they came up to clasp hers. He clung to her as if he might fall without her and she could do nothing but hold in him in return.

Together, they felt so... _helpless_, so stricken with fear. Their world was dying around them and they both knew it. The Golden Army, as victorious as it was, had failed them. There would be no more war against the humans, and this time, they were both sure their father would not sway from that ideal.

_I have failed us_. Nuada's thought was quiet and broken.

Nuala rested her head on his shoulder. It wasn't his fault, she wanted to say, but she knew that the Army would not have been forged without his quick actions or his cunning tongue. _You will never fail me, Brother_, she whispered, meaning every word.

He squeezed her hand. "I will leave," he murmured aloud, his voice hallow and emotionless.

The princess lifted her head and blinked at him with her doe-like eyes. "_What_?" She wasn't sure if she had heard right. She reached out with her mind and found, to her surprise, that he was being dead serious, so serious that she was sure alcohol could not be a factor.

"I cannot stay here," Nuada breathed. His own eyes were bright and wild. "I refuse to accept death so quietly."

Nuala shook her head furiously and pressed her fingers against his lips, _willing_ him to stop talking. _No, no, NO!_ "You are drunk, Brother. You know not of what you speak," she said weakly, tremulously. Shifting back on the bed, she pulled at him with desperation. "Come. We shall sleep. Father will make a decision by the morning."

Nuada complied, as he always did. He said nothing for the rest of the night and was uncharacteristically limp against her bosom, but he seemed soothed by her soft body and her even softer touch. For hours, they laid on the bed in a mismatched heap of silk and armor, both fully clothed and too afraid to sleep.

The silence was deafening.

Nuala eventually drifted into a listless and exhausted sleep. She didn't rest in the most comfortable of positions since her brother's armor digging into her flesh, but she made due --as long as Nuada was there, she knew he would rather set the world on fire than to let anything happen to her while she slept.

On the other hand, he had gotten exceptionally good at getting out of bed without her knowing. When Nuala woke up the next morning, she found herself alone. The blankets had been pulled lovingly around her shoulders, but her dress had stayed on and there was no sign that they had done anything but kiss the previous night.

There was nothing but a simple note by her head.

**I have made my choice**, it read.

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"Do not do this!" The princess's cry rang through the throne room like the plaintive call of a dying swan. Her dress wrinkled and her hair askew, she looked like a wild woman as she burst into the chambers and threw herself at her brother in a fit of desperation. "Brother, please!" she pleaded, clinging to his arms, her voice breaking as she spoke, "_It is madness_!"

The prince looked down at his lovely sister and felt pity tug at his heart. His voice was gentle but unwavering. "It is my choice, Sister."

Nuala recognized his tone and knew in her heart that his decision was final, but that didn't stop her from wanting to try and change his mind. "...Am I nothing to you?" she wondered with a sob on her lips.

Nuada's eyes hardened and he suddenly grasped her so tightly around the waist that it hurt them both. The power in his grip was nothing short of possessive. "You are _everything_ to me," he whispered fiercely.

The answer pleased her, but it did nothing to ease her hysterics. "Then _why_?" she whispered, her teary eyes searching his, "Why must you go?"

The prince found it hard to look away from such a beautiful and pitiful sight, but he eventually lifted his gaze and fixed it defiantly on his father, who sat silently and darkly upon the throne. "Because our father's decision is a _foolish_ one and I refuse to live with it."

Turning, Nuala sank to her knees and looked up at her father with weeping, pleading eyes. She didn't know what he had said or what he had done to make her twin feel this way, but she was willing to beg for it if the cost of a princess's pride would be enough to keep him at home. "Father, _please_! Say something! Will you not stop him?!"

Silence.

Nuala's heart sank. The look on Balor's face was pained and mournful, but there a similar defiance in his eyes that clashed with her brother's. "Will you do nothing...?" she begged, her voice trailing off into a helpless whisper.

The king looked away from her. He could not bear to see his fragile daughter in such a state of grief. His son, so proud and defiant, was much easier on the eyes in a situation like this. "Will you return?" Balor asked finally, his voice low and weary.

"I shall, Father," Nuada replied briskly. "When the time is right." He, too, was ignoring the sight of his sister at his feet, for seeing the pitiful display would threaten to break his fragile composure. Her anguish was already spilling into his own mind and it was only through centuries of practice that Nuada managed to keep his face straight.

"And when will that be?"

"When my people need me."

Balor looked at his son's flashing eyes and felt a flicker of bittersweet pride. _I have raised you well_. The thought did not stop his heart from grieving for his children, for the one that was too proud, too passionate to listen to reason and for the one that was too gentle to stop him and would suffer for it. However, under the watchful eyes of his council, Balor dared not show such anguish. Above being a father, he was a king, and a king did not show weakness.

He closed his eyes, digging his old fingers into the ancient wood of his throne. "Then go. I will not stop you."

The verdict raised a sob from the princess and a wave of hushed whispers from the gathered elves in the chamber, but the prince only raised his chin proudly and bowed. "Farewell, Father."

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Nuala watched him move with glazed, lifeless eyes. How could he move so calmly, so elegantly, while news of his inevitable departure was spreading through their kingdom like wildfire? Their people would soon weep for the loss of their prince, and yet Nuada acted as if he was simply going out for a stroll.

Having cried all the tears out of her eyes and now had none left to spill, the princess stood stiffly at her brother's doorway, her hair neatly combed by maids, her trembling shoulders dressed in the same blue gown that her twin loved so much. Today, the attire was not her choice but their father's. Like the prince, the king thought that she looked best in blue and had notified her to be dressed in her best, for he needed her by his side when he went to announce the truce to the humans.

_Truce_. What a funny word. It should be synonymous with peace, but the elves knew better. When one's enemy was a creature with a void in their heart, there would never be peace.

"Where will you go?" Nuala whispered finally, shattering the tense silence that had settled over them both.

The prince lifted his favorite spear from his wall and tucked it into the sheath tied to his back. He paused at the question, then moved on to pick the next weapon without looking back at her. "The human world. Where they least expect to find me," he answered simply.

The princess's eyes closed in fear. The human world was no place for a prince.She hugged herself, wishing that she could be as calm and as strong as he was. Alas, she was not. _Will_ _you not even look at me_? _Perhaps that is why you go,_ she thought mournfully, _for I am weak and you are not._

"No." His reaction was instant. "Do not think things when you know they are not true_."_

His voice made her open her eyes, and she was startled to find him suddenly painfully close. His strong hands came up to grasp her elbows and she found herself being pulled against a powerful, armor-clad chest. His heady, spicy scent overwhelmed her and she clung to him, helpless to deny him such raw and desperate affection.

"Take me with you," she whispered feverishly, burying her face into his neck and wishing that she could keep him there forever. "_Please_. I cannot bare to be parted."

His chin rested on her head and he slid a large, comforting palm up her back. "No." His voice was deep and calm --so _annoying_ calm. "It's too dangerous. Your place is here."

"My place is with you," she protested, her delicate nails digging into his armor.

"Father needs you."

She blinked in surprise. That was not an answer she expected from a prince that was openly defying both king and country. Then, suddenly, she understood. Under his calm exterior and the unwavering defiance that backed his motives, she could sense an emotion she didn't feel very often from her twin --love. Despite everything, the prince was still a son, and like any good son, he loved their father.

Nuada kissed her forehead gently, as if rewarding her for figuring that out. "Take care of him for me," he whispered.

Nuala trembled. "Who will take care of you?"

He smiled a little, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes. _Pity_. Nuala thought he was always so handsome when he smiled. "My lance."

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He kissed her when he left. It was a quick, needy thing stolen from the shadows and hidden from the king's eyes, but there was all the passion in the world behind it and she could feel the sensation of his lips burning into hers. She couldn't forget such a kiss easily and she doubted she ever will --that was just the way he wanted it.

When it was over, Nuada brushed a thumb over her kiss-bruised lips and passed something cold and hard into her hand. "Learn to use it," he whispered.

The princess looked down in surprise at the dagger in her hand. She recognized it as half of a pair, the other of which he normally hid in the front of his clothes.

Her brother's eyes were soft and regretful. "Dark times are coming, Sister, and I will not be here to protect you," he whispered. He curled her fingers over the dagger's handle. "Take it."

Nuala swallowed and nodded, sensing the urgency in his voice. Their father would not approve of a maiden --let alone a princess-- learning how to fight, but the dagger was not a secret she was going to give up without a fight. She silently stashed the blade away in her sleeve and looked up with teary eyes. "I pray I will never have to use it."

When they emerged from the shadows, the prince and princess were calmer and wore matching expressions of gloom on their faces. Nuada was dressed in his best armor and was armed down to the teeth, for he would only bring as much armor and weaponry as he could carry. He had no need for food for he could find it well enough on his own, but he did have a pouch of elven gold on him for bartering purposes. It was a small fortune by normal standards, but Nuala didn't think it was nearly enough to sustain a prince. Still, Nuada's pride wouldn't let him take more and she did not want their last conversation to be an argument on petty things.

Swinging himself smoothly on to the back of a mighty black stallion, Nuada took one last look around at the elves that had gathered to see him go and at the palace that had been his home for all his life. Somehow, deep in his gut, he knew he would never see most of these faces again, nor set foot in the courtyard of this ancient castle. He knew he would be gone a long time, and within that time, most of his people would die or fade away, leaving his father and his sister to spend the rest of their life in hiding with what little was left of their kingdom.

Even if the truce succeeded in stopping the war, the humans were short-lived and had an even shorter memory span. In a few generations, they would forget all about their truce with the earth and burn the forests anew. When the elves had nowhere else to go, they would be forced into the human world and thrust upon a world of steel, mortality and illness. _W__hen that time comes,_ Nuada vowed grimly, nodding at the sight of his father standing on a balcony overhead, _I will return and _smite _the humans for what they have done to my people._

Looking down at a soft touch to his leg, the prince found Nuala standing by his horse's side, a mirthless smile on her face as she tried to be brave in front of their subjects. "Farewell, Brother," she whispered, reaching out with a pale, shaking hand. _My love, I will miss you terribly._

_And I you._ He leaned down, took her hand and kissed the back of it like the prince that he was. He promptly slipped a piece of parchment into her fingers as he straightened himself. "Farewell, Sister." _Open it when you are alone._

His horse took off so suddenly that she did not have a chance to respond before her twin was gone, riding into the forest with his white hair streaming behind him and the gleam of his lance shining in the glow of the rising dawn. Then, as if the earth herself opened her arms to embrace a child of the trees, the foliage he had disrupted in his quake fell back to earth and swallowed him from view.

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The prince had watched from afar when the truce was made. Nuala could _sense_ him in the distance as she stood by her father's side, putting on a weak smile for the wounded human king as he staggered up to Balor's feet and cautiously accepted one part of the golden crown. He thanked the elven king for his graciousness and promised a world of peace with such sincerity that both Balor and Nuala smiled at his words.

In the back of her mind, however, the princess could feel disgust and hate directed the defeated human in front of her. They weren't her own emotions but her brother's, but she shivered at the strength of them nonetheless. Perhaps it was best that her brother wasn't here in person. His temper would have caused quite a scene if he saw his father handing over part of their strongest weapon.

"Daughter, come," Balor was saying, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"Your Majesty." The princess slid up to her father with a dainty bow. She resisted the urge to look at the humans, though she knew they were staring at her --out of awe and wonder, perhaps, since they were more used to seeing elven men than elven maidens.

Smiling at her with warm affection, her father silently handed her one of the two remaining pieces of the gold crown.

She looked at it with surprise and turned it over in her hand. It was heavier than it looked. "Father...?"

"You, my daughter, has stood faithfully by my side through all these years... I cannot think of anyone that deserves it more." There was an unspoken 'thank you' laced into his words and Nuala's regret that she had not gone with her brother dimmed slightly.

She gave a small smile and kissed her father's hand. "Thank you, Sire. It is an honor."

She couldn't help wonder if her brother had seen the exchange, so she spared a glance at the surrounding countryside. For a split second, she thought she saw a black rider on a distant hill beyond the treetops, but when she blinked, the figure had vanished. She was left with nothing but aging father and the heaviness of a partial gold crown in her hand.

The weight of it reminded her of chains.

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She opened Nuada's note later that night, when the silence of the castle was deafening and she could no longer bear the thought of him not being within her grasp. She couldn't even remember the last time they had been so far apart. Even when he rode off to battle, she could sense him better than she did now, when he was nothing but a dull, throbbing heartbeat on the other end of their bond. Soon, he would be so far away that telepathic thoughts were no longer possible and she feared she would receive nothing but a few dim images and a muffled word or two.

_I ache for him already_, she thought miserably, _and it has been less than a day_. Her fingers trembled as they unfolded the parchment and she let one of them slide over his handwriting, savoring the elegant script before she even read what it said.

She had expected something longer, but the short phrase that under her fingers was startling nonetheless.

**I will come back for you.**

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**AN**: There's at least two, possibly three, more chapters to the story. Thank you all for your extremely kind reviews so far, I'm so glad you guys like the story and love the characters as much as I do. :3 (And yes, the dagger Nuada gave Nuala is THAT dagger. She doesn't seem like the type to carry around random weapons and I'm _pretty _sure that Nuada drew the same one out of his cloak at the end of HB2, but... I could be wrong, lol.)


	3. Metamorphosis

Unconditional Surrender

**Author: **Lomelindi

**Rating**: R

**Chapter 3: **Metamorphosis

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In the months following Nuada's departure, the king worried about his daughter. She barely spoke, barely smiled, barely looked... _alive_. Her pale complexion had lost what little color it had and she always seemed distracted and distant, as if she was constantly reaching out through her mental bond for a twin that she could no longer sense.

"'Tis so sad," her handmaidens whispered amongst each other, "How is one to behave when they have lost their other half?"

The king heard this and felt his own heart stir with pity. Nuala had never asked him for affection, nor chased him for it. Her twin had always been the more aggressive of the pair and Balor had spent most of the time focused on him, attempting to control a prince that was as crafty as he was dangerous. The princess, for the most part, spent her times in the shadows as a nice intermediate between her father and her brother, reaching out to both with so much unconditional love that Balor wondered if she ever took the time to take care of herself.

The king had a sister once that died in an unfortunate accident before she was fully-grown. From what little he could remember of her, he thought she had been terribly vain, always playing with her hair and demanding treats from her servants.

Nuala was different. She was as soft and gentle as a spring brook, capable of calming Nuada's temper with a few loving words and equally capable of quelling her father's heavy heart with nothing more than a tender smile. As strange as it was, she seemed happy to let Nuada take the spotlight. The princess had no space for jealousy in her heart and she was happier bathing in his shadow and waiting her turn than she was being his equal.

Now with Nuada's forceful presence gone from the palace, the king realized something startling --_I don't really know my daughter_.

Naual was always _there_, of course, and always loyal to any choice he made, but she spent far more time with her twin than she did with her father. It was as if she was some hidden treasure that Nuada hid from him and never let him see.

_It is beyond time to change that_, the king thought as he approached the doorway of her chambers one afternoon and pushed them open without further ado. Her handmaidens gawked at his appearance (as big and ancient as he was, he could be stealthier than he looked) and quickly fell to the floor in a deep bow.

Balor ignore them and glanced at his daughter. She was sitting out on the balcony in a lovely dress of green and amber, her head bowed to the wind as the autumn breeze danced through her hair. Her eyes were dull and subdued as they peered out into the surrounding forest, not really _looking_ at anything in particular but just... _there_. She looked as lovely as she was sad and it pained her father's heart to see a lone tear roll down her cheek.

When she sensed a sudden stillness in the air, the princess quickly slid off the balcony railing and bowed. "Father! I... didn't hear you come in," she apologized quickly, making a motion to wipe her face clean of her tears.

Balor moved with creaky limbs, but he eventually lowered his hand to her head and stroked it gently. "Come, child. Let us take a walk. We will not be in this place for much longer and I would prefer to spend some time memorizing every detail."

His warm tone surprised her, but in her anguish, the princess only mustered a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes. Standing, she kissed his hand. "I would love to, Father."

They wandered to the rose garden outside the west wing of the palace, a place that Nuala knew her mother once loved. She couldn't remember her mother, nor could Nuada. The Queen passed away in labor, but in doing so, she gave Balor the two greatest and most troublesome gifts of all --his twin children. Not for the first time, the elven king wondered if his children, especially his heir apparent, might've turned out differently had they grown up with a mother. Nuada, in particular, would've benefited from a mother's affections.

As for his sister... The king glanced behind him. His daughter's heart was apparently too heavy to be lifted by the sight of pretty flowers and she had spent most of their walk behind his right shoulder, her hands clasped demurely in front of her and her head bowed just enough so that her father couldn't see her eyes over the hair down the side of her face.

Eventually, the king grew weary of the silence and paused. "Does my presence bore you so, child?" he asked, though he knew it was not the case.

She looked up in surprise and Balor could see that her eyes were a dull, exhausted red.

_How long has she been crying? Weeks? Months?_

"Nay, Father, I do not mind your presence." Her voice was small but sincere, and he believed her.

"Hmm." The king noticed a small, marble bench nearby and sat elegantly, smoothing out his many layers of robes before he patted to the spot next to him with one gnarled hand. "Then tell me, what is troubling you so?"

She hesitated before sitting gingerly next to him. "The... trees are dying, Father. I can sense it."

"As can every elf," her father corrected her gently. "We have felt it for centuries now. You cannot fool me, my daughter, as much as you try."

Nuala bit her lip and looked away.

_Can you not survive without your brother by your side, my daughter?_ Balor thought sadly._ Is that any way to live at all?_ "Is there no room in your heart for one more male?" he asked quietly.

It was dangerous ground to be treading on, since the king was not blind and had seen the moment many centuries ago when the tight connection between his son and daughter blossom into something much more than just familial. Of course, with the war occupying his mind and the steady decline of his kingdom, the king let it go with nothing more than an irritated shake of his head. He would deal with it in time, he told himself. Upsetting Nuada was dangerous, for his son was one of his best generals and he needed the prince in tip-top shape out on the battlefield. And upsetting either of his children was simply not something the king, a _father_, ever willingly wanted to do.

His daughter looked back at him with a pained expression. "You have always been in my heart, Father," she said with a trembling voice. She seemed hurt that he thought otherwise.

"But your brother owns most of it." The one-armed king put his one working hand over hers. A wave of anguish and grief that was not his own washed over him and made his heart skip feel of it --his daughter felt so much _pain_, so much _grief_. Was there nothing he could do to make it better? Was the presence of a father nowhere near as comforting as the presence of a brother? "Nuada has grown on you for far too long, my daughter. You must learn to live without him, as he must learn to live without you."

Nuala pulled her hand back and hugged herself, fresh tears prickling at the edge of her eyes. The mere mentioning of his name made her ache all over, and the painful longing in her heart seemed unbearable. Her twin was gone and, somehow, it felt like he had ripped out a huge part of herself with him. "I do not know how to live without him, Father," she whispered honestly. _I don't want to_.

"Then you shall learn," the king said firmly. He lifted her chin with two longer fingers and looked at her with ageless eyes that had seen more battles and lived more years than there were stars in the sky. "It will feel like a cripple learning to walk, but as far as I can tell, you have two perfectly good legs and you are more than capable of running."

Though her heart flared with warmth at his verbal support, the princess smiled a little at the sappy attempt. "Father, Brother has better jokes than you do."

Balor threw back his mighty head and laughed, a grand sound that echoed through the flower garden and made his daughter stare with awe. "I bet he does. I'm sure that he has a wicked sense of humor, but he rarely shows it in front of me." His voice trailed off into something quieter and almost... _hurt_. Though he knew his son loved and respected him, he wished that they spent less of their time arguing and more acting as father and son truly should.

This time, it was Nuala's turn to comfort him. "He thinks he does, Father, but his sarcasm is too complicated for me. I do not understand it."

Balor laughed again, looking at his daughter with renewed respect. Despite her quiet nature, it was clear that the princess had spirit and wasn't afraid to be honest when she wanted to be. _Like her mother_. He wondered if this was why Nuada, who could probably snap his sister in half like a twig, adored her so much and so often changed his decisions based on what she wanted. Something about Nuala was wise beyond her years, and Balor was glad to know that such strength had endured through the heartbreaking loss of her twin.

His laughter seemed to have confused his daughter, and she looked at him with wide, puzzled eyes.

_How little she understands me,_ the king thought with a silent sigh,_ We really know _nothing_ about each other._ Changing the subject away from the painful topic of Nuada, he looked around at the beautiful roses that surrounded them. "I will miss this place when we are gone," he said finally. "Your mother tended to so many of these roses with her own hands."

Nuala's eyes grew wide. "Truly? Even with the thorns?"

The king looked at her oddly. Elves were creatures of the woods --did she honestly fear the pinprick of a flower? That slight discomfort was probably nothing compared to the pain she felt when her brother was injured in battle and she laid in the palace, bleeding from a wound that no maiden should ever have.

The princess flustered a little. "I never touched the roses," she explained slowly, "Nuada always picked them for me." _He didn't want me to get my hands dirty._

_How typical of him_, the king thought, unsure whether to be touched by his son's gesture or worried that her daughter, an _elf_, had never once tended to a rose bush with her own hands. "Come then, I will teach you," he said suddenly, standing and stretching out of his stiff limbs.

Nuala rose with him, looking alarmed. "Father, you-- Your robes... But..."

"A king was once a prince, my daughter," Balor said, using his good arm to roll up his sleeves as best he could. "What Nuada can do, I can do as well." It was a silly and rather childish proclamation, but for an instant, he saw a spark of real mirth pass across his daughter's eyes.

She smiled at him. She truly and genuinely _smiled_.

The king smiled back with no hesitation, but in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if that was why his son was always so overprotective of his sister. Perhaps Nuada wanted to keep that smile of hers all to himself.

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It was not an easy transition, not by a long shot.

Some days were better than others, and occasionally she felt well enough to smile and laugh as she used to. Most of the time, however, the pain of losing her brother kept her quiet and moody, and her handmaidens often found the princess crying herself to sleep.

The king tried his best to be there for her as often as he could. When she wept, he would hold her hand and tell her what he remembered of the past, of beings that had long gone extinct to stories of a mother she loved but never met. And sometimes, just _sometimes_, it was enough to make the pain a little more bearable.

As time passed, Nuala kept herself busy as often as she could, for now she had both Nuada's duties as well as her own. She never once complained about the double burden, but the king could see that it was taking its toll. The princess may no longer weep, no longer wither away in the public's eyes, but the chores of a prince were never meant for a gentle-hearted maiden to bear. Nuada may be well respected and even feared amongst the bureaucrats, but his sweet and quiet-voiced sister met quite a lot of opposition when she tried to step up in his place.

Many times, Balor would find his daughter in the library, pouring over books on military tactics and ancient history that he knew she had no interest in learning. He would set his one working hand on her shoulder and feel her tremble with exhaustion underneath his fingers. "I'm not asking you to replace your brother," he told her quietly.

Years ago, she may have held his hand and wept in misery, but now the princess only looked up with tired eyes. "My people need me," she said quietly.

Balor smiled a slow, bittersweet smile. _That is something your brother would say._ "Then you must try your best, my daughter, but you must find your own way"

In time, he was right. His daughter had spirit.

In her own honest, straightforward way, Nuala began to make a stand for herself in front of her father's council. Little by little, she adopted her brother's tactic, learning to use a well-shot frown or a glacial word or two to get what she wanted. Her will strengthened and her tears tried, and for the first time since their prince vanished from the kingdom, the elves saw their princess put down her foot and step up to take the burden of crown heir upon her slim shoulders.

Balor watched with beaming pride as Nuala won her first debate and came up to him with an uncharacteristically wide smile. "Nuada would be proud," he told her quietly, and for the first time since the departure of he twin, the princess could bear the sound of his name and smile instead of weep.

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Decades passed, then centuries. The elves and other creatures of the earth moved often, fleeing the exponential growth of the humans and their cities. Countless generations had passed since the war with the elves and the humans no longer remembered it nor honored the truce that stopped it. Throughout the years, more than a few creatures would approach the elven king and plead, as Nuada did, to fight back with the gold crown that the king and his beloved daughter held closed to their hearts. Balor, however, was a very old elf and he could remember the ocean of blood that had been caused by the Golden Army as if it happened only a few days ago. He did not fight the invasive human population and instead ordered his people to flee further and further into the darkness of the forests until they became nothing but a legend.

Nuada was never far from Nuala's mind when she watched her people fade with each tree that the humans cut down. She wondered about his life often and could feel his grief and his rage when he sensed another elf fall victim to the greed of Men. He was still too far away for them to converse casually, but when she was alone and in a quiet place, Nuala would reach out with her mind and feel his suffering.

And oh, how he _suffered_.

He was always somewhere cold and dank, usually in the tunnels that ran under the human cities. He _hated_ it down there, but it was the only place he could find peace and comfort away from the filthy creatures that lived above him. For the most part, his lance was his only friend. The prince practiced it with an obsessive passion, and as his skill grew to legendary proportions, as did his hate.

Balor sometimes asked about his son, when the king and princess enjoyed a quiet moment's rest. "How is he?" he would ask out of the blue, knowing that she instinctively knew which 'he' he was referring to.

The princess would give him a sad smile. "He is healthy," she would reply, and though the answer pleased the king, they both knew that Nuada was far from 'well'.

Alone in the human world, away from elfkind and all things beautiful and green, the prince grew obsessed with studying the humans and finding new ways to abhor them. Nuala could only watch through his eyes as Man moved from an age of stone to an age of strange things like televisions, phones and computers. Their buildings grew larger than the largest tree and towered over their people like some alien temple that Nuada loathed to tear down and destroy. Humans began to separate into visibly different races, then into little things that they called 'countries'. In the eyes of an ageless elf, this was complete idiocy --who needed hundreds of countries with thousands of different languages? Who wanted to fight amongst themselves and squabble like children over petty things like money and wealth? _Certainly not us_, Nuada thought grimly, and his sister could only sigh at his views.

The prince continued to watch in disgust and disbelief as humans pulled wild beasts from the forests and forcefully tamed them through repeated torture. Wolves that were once proud and free were now little more than whimpering, whining servants to Man. The sight made Nuada's blood boil and he did what he could to stop it, often sneaking into the human town to free their dogs and their sheep and their cattle.

Nuala sensed him doing this often and prayed that he would never be caught, but she allowed herself to rejoice in his victories when she saw packs of dogs and pigs running free. _Like they were meant to_, Nuada told her, though he was more focused on the humans' confusion and anger over their loss than she was.

With patience that only elves had, the prince waited. And waited. And kept on waiting.

He continued to watch, learn and listen with his sharp elven senses, eventually picking up multiple human languages through sheer observation. Nuala, in turn, learned them from him and giggled at the humans' silly dialects and strange ways of pronunciation. Men once understood Gaelic, the ancient tongue that the elves still spoke, but now they had modern speech that sounded foreign and harsh to the elven ear. Nuada loathed English in particular --it had too many miscellaneous words that made no sense, too many words were taken from other languages and adopted into this one.

Out of all the things that he had learned, however, the prince learned the most about the human weapons.

Nuala remembered the day that her twin discovered guns. And oh, what dreadful, terrible things they were.

Humans had accidentally stumbled upon Nuada's living space underground and the prince had emerged from the shadows to punish them, his wrath swift and deadly in the form of his ever-faithful silver lance. The rifles the Men pointed at him were strange and hollow contraptions, and in his confusion, the prince paused to stare at them.

The hesitation almost cost him his life.

Nuala's scream sent birds flying for safety and had her father and her handmaidens rushing to her side. For an instant, Balor thought his children were dying. _Both_ of them. The princess bled from a massive wound to her abdomen and in her delirious pain, she pleaded with her father to send a scout out to the human world. "Save him, Father," she had cried, caring nothing for her own pain, "Save him, he suffers!"

She saw the humans scream in her mind as her brother reacted with reflexive, blind rage. He cut them down with less than his usual grace, their blood and his own mingling as he staggered against the tunnel wall and clutched his side in a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding.

Alone, dazed and in so much pain that he could barely think straight, Nuada had been frightened for the first time in a millennia. Thousands of miles away, Nuala could sense her brother's bewilderment over this strange new weapon and could feel his agony as he picked the metal ball out of his flesh with nothing but his own hands and small, elvish tweezers.

He drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, too exhausted to pick himself off the floor as he hoped --_pleaded_-- for his elven body to recover.

_Sister... Sister, my love..._ Nuada had called out to her then, when the loneliness and the pain grew too much for even a prince to bear,_ I'm sorry_...

Tucked into bed as her father and his physicians tried desperately to save both the princess and the prince, Nuala heard his whisper ghost over her mind and stirred in surprise. Her brother apologized to no one and for nothing, and yet there he was, delirious with pain and reaching out to her as if apologizing to her would make her --_them_-- feel any better.

_For what?_ the princess whispered, unsure if he could hear her. She sent out a wave of love and warmth, or what little she could muster as she struggled with her own agony. _What do you apologize for, Brother?_

_Everything_.

To this day, Nuala still didn't know what he had meant. Perhaps he believed that he had killed them both with that incident and had too much on his mind but too little time to speak of any of it before he thought the wound would claim them both.

Nonetheless, it took them both a good two weeks to recover from the wound. By elven terms, that was an abnormally long time, but then again, elves never knew about bullets and guns before that time. It wouldn't take long before the elves and every creature of the forest loathed the thunder sticks with a passion.

Her brother was careful not to be shot again after that. He mastered his speed until he could knock the humans down before they pulled a trigger, but every time Nuala sensed those terrible weapons in her brother's presence, she feared for him with all her heart.

He, in return, only grew more and more angry. So angry that even his sister, who was half way across the world, could feel his rage seep into the core of her very being. It made her feel both sick down to her stomach and saddened her that she could do nothing to soothe his pain. She longed to hold him in her arms, if only briefly, so she could kiss him and make him forget about all the things that he loathed so much. _You have been alone for so long, Brother, that you do not remember what it's like not to hate._

He didn't hear her. Even if he did, Nuala knew he would not listen, for her brother had been consumed by his hate a long time ago.

It made Nuala miserable to know that no one was there to hold him back.

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She learned to use the knife as she had promised. Granted, she delayed learning it as much as possible, but she eventually had no choice when the elves ran out of trees to run into and found themselves being pushed into the world of Men. Creatures of the fae world could avoid being seen by mortal eyes if they wanted to be, but there were simply too many dangers in this strange new world for Nuala to walk around empty-handed. There weren't many warriors left amongst her people, but she sometimes watched them fight when she could and eventually learned the basics of dagger work.

She was careful to keep this knowledge out of her father and brother's mind, for she feared that her father would not approve and that her brother would worry immensely that she had reached a point where she felt threatened enough to use the weapon he gave her.

Still, Nuala wondered if Nuada would _ever_ come back for her. Elves may be immortal, but a millennia apart was a strain on anyone, even those that were ancient and ageless.

_There are so many things we had not considered, my brother_... _So many secrets we now have between us_. She wondered if her brother knew how close her father and her had become. Would he approve of her growing close to the one parent they had left, or would he hate her for listening to the elf that, in his eyes, was dooming their people to a long and painful death? She could sense his annoyance sometimes that Balor occupied so much of her time --not that _he_ was there to occupy her time, of course, but his loneliness and his possessiveness seemed to only grow with each minute they spent apart.

Of course, Nuada had his fair share of things he didn't tell _her_ about. Nuala occasionally sensed other fae creatures by her brother's side and came to realize that he had companions. _Friends_, even. While none were elves, some of them were wise beings that were just as ancient as the children of the earth and liked speaking to Nuada because of his silver tongue and his cunning arguments. Others were lower fae creatures like trolls and animals that marveled at the power of the elves and would never once dream of questioning an elf prince.

Nuala was glad that her brother was not alone, but it was a bittersweet feeling, for she never imagined that there would come a point in their lives when their closest companions were not each other. _We once said that nothing could come between us_, she murmured sadly to the winds, _but I don't think we ever considered a situation like this._

For a while, she forced her lonely thoughts out of her mind and contented herself with taking care of her people. The elves were few in number now and had no choice but to live in the darkest, most forgotten remnants of the human world. It was a disgusting way to live, but Nuala quelled her complaints for the sake of her father and tended to her subjects as best she could. They moved from city to city, year after year, never lingering in one place for fear that the humans may one day find them.

Though the circumstances were dire, the princess couldn't help but feel relieved in knowing that every step they took into the human world lead the elves closer and closer to finding her brother. _Their lost prince_...

Oh, how _glorious_ it will be he finally returned to them! Nuala could see it now --her father's proud smile as he embraced his son, her own tearful eyes as she rushed out to greet him with her best blue dress on and a shower of kisses.

She found herself dreaming of his return so often that she almost --_almost_-- didn't notice when his presence suddenly sharpened in her mind.

That night, she burst into their adopted throne room in a whirl of excitement. Her eyes were brighter than they had been in years. "Father! Father, he's returning!"

Balor looked up with tired eyes and Nuala instinctively knew that something was wrong. His councilmen hovered around him and were abuzz with whispers, their attention tuned in to the black crows that sat cawing on the king's makeshift thrown.

The princess's heart fell like a stone. _The birds must have brought news from outside._"What is it? What has happened?"

Her father's voice was deathly quiet. "Your brother has broken the truce."

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Nuala spent that sleepness night pacing within her room. She barely ate, barely drank and barely responded to her frantic handmaidens when they fussed over her and tried to ask what was wrong. "You will see tomorrow," the princess had replied in a tight-lipped way that was unlike her, "We shall all see tomorrow."

In the middle of the night, a letter was passed under a doorway by one of her father's personal guards. **Memorize everything this letter says**_,_ it said on the top, **and burn it after you're done**_._

The princess's fingers shook as they opened the parchment. Balor's neat script leapt out at her from the page, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she began to read. Every sentence felt like a slap in the face What was this madness that had overcome her brother? What was this madness that her father spoke of?

Nuala closed her eyes and pressed the letter mournfully to her heart. _My brother returns_, she thought mournfully,_ and he brings open war with him. Am I to be joyful or fearful of his return?_ Her father's words were full of love and reassurance, but there was a dark undertone to his letter that made his daughter's insides turn to frigid ice.

Her hand trailed down to the crown piece that she carried in the gold corset around her waist. _No, it cannot be..._ Perhaps her father was merely being cautious, or had grown paranoid in his old age. Nuala _yearned_ to be joyful when her brother returned, but now... Now her father spoke of things like death and forgiveness. Was her brother going to do something terrible? How did her father know such things for certain? How did _any_ of them know anything for certain?

Her knees weak, Nuala sat at her chair with less than her normal grace. She stared at the letter in her hand, unsure whether to believe it but too fearful to deny what it said._ Father... You are wise, but you speak out of speculation, not of truth. You mustn't tell me it's true! I do not want to believe it!_

"Milady..." One of her handmaidens had knelt by her side and had taken her hand. The princess felt cold to the touch. "You tremble. Are you well?"

Nuala jumped at the touch, then looked down at her handmaiden with unfocused, dilated eyes. "The letter in my hand... Burn it," she whispered, what little color in her face having vanished the ashen whiteness of her skin.

Her handmaidens responded quickly, one of them fanning the small fireplace in the corner while the other pulled the letter out of Nuala's hands and placed it within the flames. The two watched the parchment burn to a crisp before returning to their princess's side. As one, they knelt in front of her, the shorter of the two placing a comforting hand on the royal's hand.

"Milady..." the maiden whispered fearfully, "What is wrong? What did the letter say?"

Nuala suddenly took both their hands with a strength most elves did not know she had. The handmaidens jumped at the touch and looked up at her with wide eyes. "Pack a small bag for me," the princess commanded, with an urgency in her voice that they had never heard before, "Put my best blue dress in it and a cloak big enough to hide my features. Be sure it is ready by tomorrow morning."

The handmaidens were alarmed. "Your highness...?"

Nuala tried to smile, but the gesture came out uncharacteristically cold and distant. "'Tis a precaution, nothing more. But... if something happens tomorrow and I am not here, I want you two to be safe." She emphasized that last word with a squeeze to their hands. "Fall back into the shadows and hide. You will know when it is safe to come out." _Or when all that we love is lost._ The mere thought made her shiver.

Suddenly, the warmth from the fire couldn't banish the sudden chill in the air.

"But milady... Where will you go?" one of the handmaidens whispered.

Nuala's thin fingers hugged her corset, tracing the edges of the gold crown piece that she had carried so faithfully for centuries. She wasn't her brother. She didn't have some long journey planned out for herself, she didn't have some plan that would span hundreds and thousands of years. She had nothing but the strength of her will and the pounding heart that raged in her ears, and she could only hope that they'd be enough. "I... do not know."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**AN:** Oh god, that was long. This chapter was definitely the hardest to write since there is absolutely NOTHING about this span of time from the 'storytelling arc' in Hellboy's childhood to Nuada actually showing up in the movie.

Also, I'm terribly sorry for the lateness of this chapter, school and real life caught up with me. I'm also falling behind on writing this story in general so the next chapter won't be up for a bit, since I have absolutely nothing written after this chapter. **Please be patient!** (A huge, HUGE hug goes out to all the people that have read and enjoyed the story so far. You guys make my day!)

For the next chapter, Balor's letter will be partially revealed and, of course, we go into what happens in the movie. Bear with me though, I can't remember all the specifics of the movie and since it's not out yet on DVD, I'll have to guess. :p


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